Collapse into Tomorrow
by theLOSTpassenger
Summary: Set in a distinctively separate parallel universe, Olivia and Peter find themselves personally attached to a case that involves a series of mysterious child abductions.
1. Chapter 1

Olivia Dunham-Bishop stood up from where she had been sitting at her desk and put her coat on, preparing for the brisk weather of Boston's brutal February. She turned the lights of her office off and closed the door, heading outside of the law firm as her husband Peter Bishop pulled up in their red Mercedes. She couldn't help but smile, and she waved when he was close enough to see and then got into the car when he had come to a complete stop.

"Hey, PB," she said, smiling while closing the car door. She leaned in and kissed him.

"Hey, Livvy," he replied, smiling himself. "You hungry?"

"You betcha," Olivia responded enthusiastically.

Peter nodded. "I figured you would be," he said. "Pizza?"

"You stole the word right out of my mouth."

Peter drove away from the law firm, and within five minutes, they were walking into the front door of Joey's Pizza, their favorite pizza joint in the city.

After finding a seat and having their orders taken, Peter asked Olivia, "So, how was work?"

"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging, "the usual. Still prosecuting the psychopath who killed all those women, the one who calls himself the Artist."

"Ah, yes," Peter said, nodding, "the one that thought that he was enhancing their appearance. How wonderful. You still haven't figured out what that drug is?"

Olivia shook her head. "Unfortunately, no," she said, sighing. "What about you?"

She used her hands to brush her chestnut-colored hair behind her back.

"Well," Peter explained, happy that Olivia was interested, "a young woman tried to get her son out of bed for school this morning, and he wasn't in his bed. Needless to say, it is more than likely a kidnapping that we're looking at. Those are always fun. The woman was hysterical. She kept telling me to bring him back to her."

"What did you say?" Olivia asked, genuinely concerned and heartbroken.

"I said all I _could_ say," Peter said, feeling the same way. "I promised her that I would. I just hope that I can keep that promise. An AMBER Alert was issued, so all we can do now is keep looking for her, hope for a lead."

Olivia nodded. "I know you," she reassured him, "and I know what you're capable of. I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do. If anyone can find that boy, you can."

Peter lit up, and as he and Olivia exchanged suggestive glances, Olivia's feed rang from the breast pocket of her powder-blue shirt. She set the small circular device down on the table and then gently pressed its center button as a small hologram of a young woman with shoulder-length curly dark hair appeared from the center.

"Astrid," Olivia greeted her. "We'll be back within an hour or so. How is Ella?"

"That's actually why I'm calling," Astrid replied, and Olivia could now see that the expression on her friend's face was one composed entirely of worry and fear. "She went to bed about an hour ago, but now, she's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?" Olivia asked, and Peter averted his eyes to the table.

"She isn't in her bedroom," Astrid replied, stumbling over her words as she panicked. "She isn't anywhere. _I can't find her_."

Olivia and Peter glared at each other with fresh, panicked intensity, and as soon as Olivia turned her feed off and placed it back in her pocket, the two of them had their coats on and were out the door in a flash.


	2. Chapter 2

When Olivia and Peter got home, a large brick house that sat outside of Boston in a farm-like area, Astrid's silver Chevy sat next to a police car, its lights flashing.

"It looks like Astrid called the cops," Peter said, turning the car off and getting out; Olivia quickly followed.

They entered the house through the front door, where they saw a police officer in a green uniform speaking to Astrid, who was catatonic, sitting on the sofa with her knees up, rocking back and forth with her head in her hands.

"Officer Charlie Francis," the officer introduced himself. "Are you the parents?" The officer was relatively young with short dark hair and a square, tight-jawed face.

"Yeah," Olivia nodded, "My sister died a few years ago when Ella was born, so we adopted her."

Officer Francis nodded. "And Mrs. Farnsworth-Stanton here was taking care of her, I understand."

Again, Olivia nodded.

"Officer Francis," Peter said, removing his badge from his coat pocket and showing it to the officer. "I know what's going on here."

Officer Francis gave him a sideways glance and said, "I'm listening."

"Ella was taken the same way another kid was, a boy," Peter explained. "We have no idea where they're being taken or what's being done to them, but all we know is that the chances of these kids staying alive diminishes with every minute that goes by."

Olivia teared up, and Officer Francis nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, "yeah, I know. Well, I've taken all of Mrs. Stanton's information, but the nature of this case makes it yours, Agent Bishop."

Peter nodded. "Thank you."

"Just in case you need anything," Charlie offered, handing a business card to Peter, "give me a call."

Officer Francis left, and Olivia, wiping tears away, quickly went upstairs. Astrid was still rocking, and Peter, after looking up the stairs after Olivia, approached her.

"Astrid," Peter said, sitting on the sofa next to her, "this isn't your fault."

Astrid lifted her head up from her hands. "It is."

"No," Peter insisted, shaking his head as Astrid nodded hers, "no, no, it's not. Astrid, look, Ella wasn't the first. A boy was taken, and this guy is somehow taking kids right under our noses. We don't know how yet, but this is _not_ your fault."

Astrid, crying hysterically, said, "I'm so sorry, Peter."

"No," Peter replied, hugging her, "no, it's not your fault. Has Frank called?"

Astrid nodded frantically.

"Go home to him," Peter said. "Astrid, we will find this guy."

Astrid continued to nod, and when she finally stood up, she walked over to the counter and grabbed her keys and her purse and left the house.

Peter stayed seated for a few minutes and just thought. He thought about how this guy was taking kids and what he wanted with them, why he was taking them. He had to start to try to put pieces together, but there weren't enough of them to make any sense of them. What did that mean? Did that mean that he needed more abductions to take place, and if so, did he _want_ that? What were the chances that the killer was keeping the kids alive, and if he was, for what purpose? He couldn't bear to think about it anymore, and he decided that it would be best to go upstairs, to avoid being alone in his torturous thoughts and to comfort Olivia, who he knew was now a complete wreck.

He walked up the stairs and headed to their bedroom. The door was closed, and when he tried to open it, he found that the door was locked; he knocked.

"Olivia?" he called.

All he heard was muffled sobbing.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter tried to knock again, but still, all he heard were Olivia's sobs.

"Olivia!" Peter called out. "Olivia, please! Open up!"

He waited as he heard her gradual footsteps approach the door, and when they did, she opened the door and stared at Peter, her face a mess of tears and smeared mascara.

"Olivia," Peter said, walking into the room with her and closing the door behind him, "why would you lock the door like that?"

Olivia sat on the bed, which, based on the impression that was made on the comforter in the very place that she sat, is where Peter figured she had been sitting before and when he came to the door. He sat next to her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed frantically, her voice broken up by the sobs. "I just wanted to be alone. I just wanted to think. Peter, I promised Rachel. I promised her that I would take care of her, that _we_ would take care of her, and now, she's gone."

"No," Peter comforted her, holding her hands in his, "we don't know that she's gone."

"There were no ransom notes," Olivia pointed out. "There was nothing. He didn't leave anything behind. What do we have to go on?"

"We don't have any reason to think that Ella is dead," Peter said, holding Olivia's head up so that she would make eye contact with him. "We have to stay strong; Ella needs that. If we give up, we give up on her. We give up on Rachel, and I know that that isn't you. You are so strong, and you have me. You told me that the world count on me to find that boy, and _you_ can count on me to find Ella, too."

Olivia nodded and briefly smiled before wiping her face with her hands. "I know," she whispered. "I know. I am just scared."

"I know you are," Peter said, holding Olivia in his arms. "I am, too, but we _will_ find Ella, Livvy. I promise. In the meantime, let's try to get some sleep. We need to be at the top of our game, and first thing in the morning tomorrow, I will go into the office, and we _will_ find this guy."

Again, Olivia nodded. "Where is Astrid?" she asked suddenly.

"She went home to Frank," Peter told her. "She's a little wrought up. She blames herself for what happened."

"She shouldn't," Olivia said, shaking her head.

"That's what I told her," Peter said with a very curt nod of his head. "She'll be okay."

"That's good to know," Olivia said, smiling, genuinely happy to know that Astrid had gone home; Frank would surely make her feel a lot better.

Peter sat up from the bed and turned the bedside lamp off. He undressed and then crawled into bed with Olivia. They slept soundlessly, but only until Peter awoke at six in the morning due to his feed ringing, which had been sitting next to the lamp on the bedside table. Peter reached for it and hit the center button on it.

The figure of a tall bald man with a goatee wearing a gray suit and a red tie appeared, and he had a very grave expression on his face.

"Broyles," Peter said before Broyles said anything.

"Peter," Broyles responded, no less gravely, "I heard, and there has been another one since."

Peter sighed deeply, his head slowly sinking down to his hands. He shook his head and told Broyles that he was on his way, hitting the center button of the feed and putting it in his pocket.

He kissed Olivia, and she stirred lightly.

"What is it, PB?" Olivia asked groggily. "Have they found Ella?"

"No," Peter said dismally, "but I'm going in. I want you to call in to the office and tell them that you're not going in today. I want you to take it easy."

Olivia fell back asleep, having barely comprehended what he had said, and Peter kissed her again before dressing; he then grabbed his coat, his feed, and his gun and headed downstairs and out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

When Peter arrived at FBI Headquarters, he immediately went to his office and checked his email, but there was nothing of importance. He then heard a knock at his door and could see through the window that it was Broyles. He got up from his desk and went to his door, letting Broyles in.

"Good morning, Colonel," Peter said. "I hope you had a better night than I did."

"Well, for what it's worth, I didn't," Broyles responded. "I have been worried about Ella, very worried."

"Olivia and I appreciate that," Peter said, nodding. He closed the door behind the two of them and then went back to his desk, offering Broyles a seat across from his desk, which Broyles accepted.

"So," Peter asked, "what do we know?"

"Not much more than you," Broyles responded briskly. "In fact, you may know more than we do."

"No leads?" Peter pressed. "Nothing?"

Broyles shook his head regrettably, and Peter sighed.

"Olivia is a wreck," he explained. "I told her to take the day off, hoping that I could call her with some good news."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Broyles countered. "We're doing everything we can, but there's only so much we _can_ do. Believe me, I know what this case means to you, and for that reason, I'm telling you to do the same as you told Olivia."

Peter looked at Broyles quizzically.

"Go home," Broyles clarified. "You're personally involved, and that could compromise the investigation. We need agents who are thinking clearly, not emotionally, and I don't think you're capable of that. I know that if I had kids and were in this situation, I wouldn't be."

"No," Peter refused, shaking his head fervently, "I _need_ to be here, Colonel. I have never been more focused than I am now."

"You say that _because_ you are personally involved," Broyles argued. "I'm sorry, Peter. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, how badly you want to help find her, but if we're going to find her, you need to go home and stay there until further notice. I am officially dismissing you."

"Why the hell did you even call me this morning, then?"

"To _tell_ you not to bother coming here," Broyles responded with authority, "but as always, your determination and your ambition got the best of all else, but you know what? That's what's always made you a damn good agent."

"Oh, come on, Colonel," Peter continued to argue. "If it makes me a good agent, then why am I being cast off? This is bull."

"Peter," Broyles warned, "the only reason you aren't out of line right now is because of how far back your father and I go. Back in the day when I served, he was always a man of unchallenged wisdom, and he helped me through some of the worst days of my life. I suggest you give _him _ a call, as I'd imagine he'll help you through _this_."

Peter sat up from his desk and angrily grabbed his belongings. "You keep in touch with me," Peter demanded, pointing his finger at Broyles. "I mean it. Don't let _one thing_ go. I want to know everything."

Broyles nodded and stood up from his seat. "You know I will."

"I don't know much of anything right now," Peter said, passing Broyles and exiting his office. When he had exited the building, he retrieved his feed from his pocket and called Olivia.

"Hey," she answered after a couple of rings, "did you find out anything?"

"No," Peter responded, sighing, "no, Broyles demanded that I leave, saying that I am personally compromised."

Olivia's face lost all color.

"_What_?" she asked, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Peter answered stoically, "but don't worry, Olivia. We're going to catch this bastard ourselves."

Peter hung his feed up and got into his Mercedes and went home to Olivia. Broyles had been wrong; he was more focused than he had ever been in his life.


	5. Chapter 5

Olivia didn't sleep much longer after Peter had left. She had gotten out of bed and showered and had just gotten out of the shower and dressed when he had called and told her that he was on his way back. She was completely devastated. How could Broyles do this to him, to them? Colonel Phillip Broyles was a man for whom Olivia had a great deal of respect, but she couldn't believe that he had done this, and she was thinking about how she would probably be giving him a call later when she heard Peter walking up the stairs.

She quickly left the bedroom and met him at the top of the stairs.

"Peter!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

"Hi," Peter said with a smile. "Like I said on the phone, I don't want you to worry about this. We will find her, and if we don't, they will. Broyles won't let this go."

Olivia nodded, and just then, Peter stepped away from her and stared her down.

"I thought I told you to take some time off," Peter questioned her.

"I can't," she replied with a hint of a smile. "You know that, Peter."

"I want you to stay calm, Olivia," he argued, "and you can't do that when you're focused on that case."

"You know me better than that," Olivia countered. "That's exactly what _will_ keep me calm. I need to be able to do my job."

"But-"

"Which is why I will be giving Broyles a call today," she interrupted, putting her hands on Peter's shoulders. "I need to be able to do my job, and you need to be able to do yours. Besides, staying calm isn't the priority. Finding Ella is, and maybe I'll come across something. It's better than doing nothing here."

Finally, Peter nodded. "Call me."

"I will," Olivia responded, kissing Peter passionately.

"You want me to drive you?" Peter asked her, turning to face her as she headed down the stairs.

She shook her head. "No," she replied with a smile, her eyes encouraging Peter to understand that she would be okay. "I'll be back early."

Peter nodded and watched her head down the stairs, listened to the sound of the side door open as she went to the garage and started up their black Chrysler. He went to Ella's room and sat on her bed, thinking about how badly he already missed her, his little girl, his fingers interlocked in front of him as if he were praying, which, in his own way, he was. After a few minutes, he decided to listen to Broyles. He retrieved his feed from his breast pocket and called his father, someone he had not spoken to in months.

"Peter?" Walter answered, surprised. He was efficiently dressed in a long-sleeve blue and white plaid shirt and a blue sweater vest over it, with creased khaki pants and shiny brown dress shoes.

"Hi," Peter replied. "Broyles wanted me to give you a call. Ella is missing."

"Oh, dear God," Walter cried. "Do you have any idea who took her?"

"No," Peter said, shaking his head solemnly, "and she's not the only one. There are other children that were abducted, and it looks like they're connected. They're working on finding out how."

"_They're_?" Walter asked incredulously.

"Broyles insisted I leave," Peter explained. "He said that I am emotionally compromised, and he suggested that I call you for, I don't know, support."

"Such a dear old friend," Walter said of Broyles. "He was just a young lad, a captain, as I was then a colonel, and he trusted me, always coming to me for advice, much like I wish you would more often."

Peter sighed. "Can we deal with my shortcomings as a son later? It's been really hard since mom died, you know."

Walter looked deeply saddened. "I miss her, too," he said, choked up. "She would be so proud of you, Peter, and she always loved Olivia. She would be so happy to see you now."

"I'm sure she would," Peter said, nodding, "and I'd be happy to see _her_ now. I'd really like to see Ella now, too."

Walter nodded regretfully. "I'm sure that she is okay," Walter encouraged him. "Ella is a strong little girl. She's special, and I will do what I can to get her back to you. With the Amber Alert out, I have resources. I will also question some of teachers at Ella's school. Perhaps, one of them can offer some enlightenment."

Peter's father worked part-time as a resource guide in Boston's schools. He assisted kids who were experiencing academic trouble in science classes.

"Thank you," Peter said. "I appreciate that."

"Peter, my son," Walter said, choking up again, "I wish that you could learn to forgive me. I loved your mother very much."

"I can't do this now," Peter said, coldly dismissing him. "We can talk about this when Ella is home safe."

Walter hesitated and then nodded, and Peter hung up, waiting for a call from Olivia.


	6. Chapter 6

When Astrid woke up, she found herself in Frank's arms. She turned around so that she was lying on her back, and her having shifted woke Frank up. He blinked a few times and then smiled at her.

"Hi, honey," he said quietly.

"Hi," she replied. "Good morning."

"You feeling any better?" Frank asked her. She had been a nervous wreck most of the night, and he had stayed up with her, calling in to the hospital early to tell them that he would be a bit late coming in today.

She nodded.

"Good," he replied, nodding in response. "I just have this feeling that Ella is okay."

"We don't know that for sure," Astrid replied, getting out of bed and moving to the closet to pick something to wear, "and if she's not, it's my fault."

"No," Frank countered, getting out of bed, too, "it is _not_ your fault. There's nothing that you could have done."

"There is _plenty_ that I could have done," Astrid insisted, turning away from the closet to face him. "They _trusted _me with her, Frank. I was _watching_ her, taking care of her, and I lost her."

Frank gently but firmly held Astrid's arms in his hands. "Listen to me," he encouraged her. "The person who is responsible for this is out there, and they're going to catch whoever it is, and when they do, I promise, Ella will be fine."

"There was no ransom note," Astrid argued, "nothing to go on."

Frank hugged her, and he held her close to him for about a minute, until Astrid finally said, "You'd better get going. Patients need you, so go do what you do, Dr. Stanton."

He smiled, told her that he would see her later, and left. Astrid sighed and went back to her bedroom; she decided that the best move that she could make at this point was to call Olivia.

"Astrid," Olivia said with a wide, genuinely happy smile.

"Olivia," Astrid said, trying to smile in return, "any news?"

"No," Olivia replied without hesitation, shaking her head, "but I trust Broyles. I know he'll find her."

"Especially with Peter's help," Astrid agreed, nodding.

"Broyles took Peter off the case," Olivia informed her, sighing. "In fact, he is on leave altogether."

"What?" Astrid replied, incredulous. "Why?"

"He thinks Peter has been emotionally compromised."

"Olivia," Astrid said, shaking her head and tearing up, "I am _so _sorry."

"It isn't your fault," Olivia said, cutting her off. "Don't blame yourself, Astrid. There was a boy taken before Ella was taken, and he was taken right out from under his mother's nose. This bastard is somehow taking kids right out of their houses without anyone knowing, but he _will _be stopped."

Astrid nodded, and the two of them exchanged their goodbyes just before Astrid disconnected her feed and went back to her room, placing the Feed on her bedside stand. She started to cry again, but then something hit her.

_He is on leave altogether_, Olivia had said. Peter wasn't working, and that meant that she didn't have to be alone. She could go visit him, and maybe together, they could think of a way to get Ella back. She had to make this right; she _had_ to help Peter and Olivia find Ella, their daughter.

She grabbed her feed and said, "Call Peter."

"Calling Peter," the feed's robotic female voice responded.

Astrid took a deep breath as she waited for Peter to answer his feed, waited for an opportunity to redeem herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Olivia sat down at her desk when she got to work and immediately called Broyles on her feed.

"Phillip," she said after Broyles answered, "I understand that you have taken Peter off the case."

"That's right," he said. "He is compromised."

Olivia smiled, but it was an impatient smile, the kind that she wore when she was trying to maintain composure.

"Peter needs to be on this case," she countered. "He's the best you have, and you know that."

Broyles nodded curtly. "I do," he agreed, "and I understand your frustration, Olivia, but I shouldn't have to remind you that Ella isn't the only child that has gone missing. There have been four other reports since this morning, and even the best can hinder an investigation if they're emotionally compromised."

"Phillip," Olivia said, fully understanding why this case meant so much to him, "you did the best that you could. No one blames you for what happened."

"I blame me," Broyles affirmed, "and I always will. If I had stepped down, Chris might still be alive today."

"Well," Olivia continued, "you can't punish Peter for what you feel _you _did wrong. You know him. He's going to involve himself in the case either way, and I'm going to stand right beside him. If you don't think you can trust him, wouldn't you rather he be supervised by the agency?"

Broyles hesitated and then said, "Tell him to be here within the hour. I'll be in my office."

"Thank you," Olivia said, smiling. "You won't regret this."

"I hope not."

"Phillip," Olivia boomed before she lost connection with him, "I have to ask, is there any reason to assume that these kids haven't been hurt?"

"The fact that whoever is doing this is taking so many kids at once tells me that he has some sort of agenda," Broyles responded calmly, "so I wouldn't give up hope."

With that, the feed's connection was lost, and Olivia couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. With Ella missing and with no guarantee that she was all right, she had to take comfort somehow, and right now that was by knowing that Peter was back on the case. She immediately called him on his feed.

"Peter," she exclaimed, "I just got off the phone with Broyles. You're back on the case. Broyles expects you in his office within the hour."

"Seriously?" he questioned. "What did you say to him?"

"I promised him that he could trust you," she replied, "and I know he can because I do."

Peter smiled his warm smile, the smile that said that he had been touched by something that had been said to him.

"Thank you, Olivia," he said to her. "We will find her, I promise."

"I know," Olivia replied with a thin smile.

"I'll see you later," Peter said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Olivia replied.

This was the most hope that she had felt since the night before. She knew in her heart that Ella would soon be safe at home again, and she knew, with just as much certainty, that Peter would have a hand in making that happen, and even though thinking about how scared Ella must be terrified her, all she could really do at the moment was get back to work, so she turned her computer screen on and did just that.


	8. Chapter 8

Astrid pulled up to the front of Peter's driveway and got out of her car, approaching the front door and then ringing the doorbell. It was only a matter of seconds before Peter showed up at the front door.

"Hey, Astrid," he said, welcoming her warmly, "I really wish that I could stay and chat with you, but could you maybe stop by later tonight? I was just headed out myself."

"Please, Peter," she argued, using her right hand to move her bangs away from her face as a mild-mannered wind attempted to shift her hairstyle, "I really need to talk to you. It's important."

He nodded and opened the door up all the way for her, allowing her to walk past him. He then closed the door behind him.

"Could I get you something?" he offered. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks," she replied, waving her right hand and smiling nervously. "I can see that you're in a hurry, and hopefully, this doesn't take very long."

She didn't even bother to take her coat off or sit down. She just stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

"So, what's up?" Peter asked.

"I know that you and Olivia are both pressed right now," she began. "Believe me, I am, as well. Ella is missing, and I can't stop feeling like a failure for letting that happen, but I've come to ask for your help."

"Okay," Peter replied, confused but interested, "ask away."

Astrid hesitated for a few seconds but then said, "I want to be a part of the investigation."

Peter smiled. "I appreciate it, Astrid," he said. "I really do, and I can tell you that Olivia would, too, but there's nothing you can do."

Astrid shook her head. "No, there is," she reasoned. "I could help you find the kidnapper. I studied this kind of stuff in college."

"I didn't know that," Peter said, genuinely surprised.

Astrid nodded. "I majored in cryptology," she explained, "but I also studied forensics. Psychology, to be exact."

Peter nodded slowly. "All the same," he said, "I can't share details of the investigation with you."

She nodded. "No, you couldn't," she admitted, "not without authorization."

Astrid could tell that Peter immediately understood what she was saying, and the look on his face scared her. It told her that he wasn't yet on board with this.

"Peter," she continued firmly, "I can't just do nothing. She disappeared under _my_ eye, which was supposed to be watching her. You can't possibly expect me to take no for an answer. We could at least try, couldn't we? If your superior meets me and _he_ says no, I'll leave it be."

Peter sighed and seemed to think it over for a few seconds. Then, much to Astrid's relief, he nodded.

"We really could use all the help we can get," he said, "but I can't promise you that my superior will agree. A lot of the time, he's kind of a hard-ass."

As Peter went back outside and headed to his car, Astrid followed closely behind him. "Well, that's reassuring," she said sarcastically as she closed the door behind her.

"He had me off the case until Olivia convinced him to change his mind," Peter told her, his back facing her.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed. "Really?"

Peter opened the driver's side door of his car as Astrid opened the passenger's side door. They got in the car, and Peter started the engine and backed out of his driveway.

"Colonel Phillip Broyles," Peter said, his expression betraying both serious intensity and a hint of amusement. "You want him, you got him."

_What am I getting myself into?_ Astrid thought to herself.

She would soon be finding out.


	9. Chapter 9

Broyles sat in his office waiting for Peter as he began to think about what Olivia had told him.

_Phillip, you did the best that you could. No one blames you for what happened._

If only that were true.

He thought about Chris, and he thought about Diane, both gone now because of his foolishness, his unwillingness to let go. Chris had been taken by a man who had been known as the Candyman. He had, much in the same fashion as these abductions, taken Chris right out from under he and Diane's noses, and because he had chosen to stay personally involved in the case, the Candyman had returned a few days after Chris had been found and brought home, and he murdered the both of them in cold blood while Broyles had been working. He had eventually been caught, and Olivia had been the prosecutor that helped put him away. That was ultimately why, despite his reluctance to allow Peter to assist in this investigation, he had to do just that. He owed Olivia a great deal.

He recalled one of the very last memories he had of his family. It had been Chris's birthday, and Broyles had had every intention of being there to celebrate it with him, but that afternoon, he had received a phone call that had asked that he come in to work. Another victim had been found, another body turned to ashes on the floor, and that case, save the Candyman case, had been his undoing. It had ultimately been why he hadn't been home the night that Chris and Diane had been murdered. He remembered leaving that afternoon as he saw Chris trying to chase the car behind him, crying and begging for him to come back. A mere couple of weeks later, he found himself in a situation that had permanently prevented him from ever making that mistake up to him.

"You are his father," Diane had said that night, "and we are your family. Surely, that has to count for something."

"It counts for everything, Diane," Broyles had said to her, "but there is a real danger out there that I am protecting you and Chris from. That's why I do it."

It hadn't done much good. Because he had tried to make the world a safer place for them, he had lost them.

Just then, Peter entered his office, and he was thankful for the interruption. As much as thinking about his family brought him some solace, it brought him just as much pain, because there would never be a day that he would stop blaming himself.

Much to his surprise, however, Peter had a smile on his face, and he wasn't alone.

"Agent Bishop," Broyles cautioned, "she does not have clearance to be here."

"Actually," Peter corrected, "she does. She's with me."

Broyles sighed and stood up, extending his hand out to his visitor.

"Astrid Farnsworth-Stanton," she introduced herself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The same," Broyles returned, "but I have to ask what you're doing here with Agent Bishop."

"Astrid was watching Ella when she was taken," Peter explained, excited. "She's a close friend of ours, and she can help us."

"How?" Broyles pressed.

"I work mostly from home," Astrid explained, a bit timidly. "I am a writer, which unfortunately hasn't gotten me anywhere yet, but I have a background in cryptology and forensic psychology."

"Really?" Broyles said, impressed.

Astrid nodded.

"Could I have a word with you, Colonel?" Peter asked Broyles.

"Sure," Broyles responded flatly.

"We'll be back right," Peter said to Astrid, smiling. "Just sit tight."

She looked confused but nodded.

The two of them left the office and headed down a hallway and then to an unoccupied conference room. Peter closed the door behind them.

"What is this, Peter?" Broyles asked him immediately. "Kids are going missing all over the city, one of them yours, mind you, and you come in here with a cultured civilian and a smile on your face."

Peter's face darkened a bit. "You don't need to remind me what's at stake, sir," he said sternly. "That's exactly why she's here."

"Look," Broyles said, relaxing a bit, "regardless of whether or not she has the expertise, she is a civilian. You're lucky _you're_ back on duty, and this is _exactly_ why I took you off to begin with. You're desperate. You'll do just about anything to get Ella back, and I understand that, but in the meantime, you'll behave recklessly, jeopardize the entire investigation, and believe me, you don't want to do something that you'll find yourself regretting."

Peter nodded. "Believe me," he countered, "I was hesitant at first, too. I was just ready to leave the house and head here when she showed up at the door. She started off by trying to ask me to allow her to help, and I told her exactly what you're telling me now, but she blames herself for what happened. Shouldn't that give her a chance to help us?"

"I'm sorry, Peter," Broyles said assertively, shaking his head, "but the answer is no. I cannot allow a civilian out in the field."

"She wouldn't be out in the field, sir," Peter said, a thin smile returning to his face. "You could authorize her as a civilian consultant, and she wouldn't ever be out in the field."

Broyles began shaking his head again, but Peter continued.

"You know as well as I do that with the abductions being confined to Boston, the AMBER Alert that we issued isn't going to do much good. We need all the help that we can get, and she can help us. She can help us catch this guy."

Finally, Broyles understood why Peter had walked into his office with a grin. He truly believed that this young woman was the key to finding Ella.

Broyles hesitated. "I trust you," he said reluctantly, "so if I sanction this, then let it be known that that is the only reason why. If you screw up once, and I mean _once_, the _both _of you are gone. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Peter replied, reaching for the doorknob of the conference room. "She can help us. I promise."

"You don't need to keep trying to plead your case," Broyles said with a barely detectable grin as Peter opened the door. "I've already agreed to it."

Broyles exited the conference room and headed back to his office as Peter followed him. He needed to find out exactly how this woman could help them find these kids.


	10. Chapter 10

Broyles sat back down behind his desk as Astrid remained in the velvet chair in the corner of the room. Broyles gestured for her to sit at the chair in front of his desk, and she proceeded to do just that.

"Mrs.?"

"Farnsworth-Stanton," Astrid reminded him, "but you can call me Astrid."

"Astrid," he briskly corrected himself, "I'm going to issue you a civilian consultant identification card. You may not be issued a weapon, but you can assist us in this investigation as long as it's in the confines of these walls, meaning that you may not do any work in the field with Agent Bishop or anyone else. You will also be precluded from sharing any information that you obtain inside this office with anyone, and that includes and is especially prevalent to the media. Is this understood?"

Astrid nodded. "Yes, sir."

"All right," Broyles said after a brief moment, "You'll have a few papers that you'll need to sign before I can officially clear you."

With that, he left the room and headed in the opposite direction of the conference room. Peter sat in the chair where Astrid had been sitting before moving, and Astrid turned her head around and smiled at him.

"I really appreciate this," she said to him, a flicker of true gratitude in her eyes. "It means everything to me."

"We're just lucky that I was able to convince him," Peter said with a crooked grin.

Astrid nodded and turned back around. It was a only a minute or so before Broyles returned with a pile of papers for Astrid to sign.

"We can go over this together if you'd like," he said to her as he sat back down. "I can tell you what you need to read and where you need to sign."

The two of them went over the paperwork together, and after about fifteen minutes, Astrid Farnsworth-Stanton was officially a civilian consultant for the Boston branch of the FBI. The three of them headed in the direction of the conference room, with Broyles carrying a stack of files in manila envelopes at his side. He stopped at someone's office along the way and peeked his head in, which was followed by an attractive man with auburn hair following behind them. He had a pastel blue dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled up, which matched the pastel blue and white striped tie that he was wearing, and khaki dress pants. He wore black-rimmed glasses and seemed to be very friendly, nodding and smiling at each of them as they exchanged glasses.

When they arrived at the conference room, they each took a seat at the large round table in the center of the room.

"Astrid," Broyles began, "I'd like you to meet Special Agent Lincoln Lee. He and Agent Bishop will be the two primary agents leading this investigation."

"How do you do?" Agent Lee greeted her. He extended his hand out to her, which Astrid shook delicately.

Broyles didn't waste any more time. He began to open a folder that he had brought in with him and laid a photograph out on the table. The photograph was of an adorable little boy with brown hair and brown eyes.

"Stephen Alexander Murphy," Broyles said. "He disappeared from his bedroom two nights ago. He was the first to have disappeared."

Astrid noticed Peter cringe a bit in his seat. She shot him a questioning look.

"Before Ella went missing," Peter explained, "I talked with this boy's mother. She had been in the house the night that he was taken. Nothing I could say would get her to stop crying. I promised her that we would find her little boy."

Astrid nodded, a sharp and meaningful nod of understanding. She understood all too well.

Broyles hesitated, first looking very briefly at Astrid then very briefly at Peter. He then moved to the next folder and placed the next photograph on the table, right next to Stephen's photograph.

The young girl in the photograph had dirty blonde hair hanging to her shoulders, and her eyes beamed happily at the camera.

"Ella Marie Dunham," he said, solely for Agent Lee's benefit. "She was taken last night as Mrs. Farnsworth-Stanton here was babysitting. Agent Bishop is her father."

Surprise flashed across Agent Lee's face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to; Astrid knew exactly what he was thinking, and she couldn't blame him. Two people so personally attached to the case shouldn't be involved in it.

He pulled the next photograph out and laid it on the table next to Ella's photograph.

"Jason Andrew Westcott, taken some time last night after Ella," he said in regards to a young boy with a blonde bowl cut and sharp blue eyes. The boy was smiling a smile that could have caused his jaw to explode, and Astrid felt a pang of fear for these children.

"Sarah Lynn Daniels, also taken last night," Broyles said about a young girl with long blonde braids at her sides and small hazel eyes.

"Lastly," he concluded as he laid the final photograph down on the table, "Adrian Alejandro Soto, the most recent to have been reported missing under the same conditions."

"What are the conditions, exactly?" Astrid asked politely.

Broyles had his eyes focused on the photographs before he looked up and met Astrid's curious expression.

"As you know," he responded, "they're being taken right at home, right out from under their caretakers' noses, and we can't figure out how."

"They go to bed," Agent Lee concluded, nodding, "and then disappear."

Broyles briefly glanced at him and nodded.

"There has to be a pattern," Astrid offered.

"Of that much we're aware," Broyles said, perhaps with a bit more hostility than he intended. "We just don't know how. Obviously, they are all around the same age, seven to eight years old, and we have ascertained that they all go to the same school, but that doesn't help us much."

"It's a start," Astrid suggested, a bit hesitantly. "Obviously, it's your call, sir, but I think it best that Agents Bishop and Lee talk to the families of these children as soon as possible, obtain as much information as possible so that we can hope to find more connections."

Broyles didn't hesitate. He looked at the two men and simply said, "Go."

They exited the room, and Broyles stared intently at Astrid.

"Sir?" she questioned, nervous.

"There may be hope for you yet," he said after another moment's pause.

Astrid couldn't help but smile. This particular moment was probably her happiest moment since before Ella disappeared. She thanked Broyles and followed him out of the conference room.


	11. Chapter 11

Ella sat bound to a chair in a large warehouse area, and the lighting was very dim. Around her, she could see some of the other kids that were there with her. She could hear footsteps around her, whispering, and the sound of keyboards clicking away, computers beeping. She thought that maybe she should be scared. After all, it had been a few days since she had seen her parents, and she was trapped here, but they had been feeding her well, and they kept telling her that if she behaved herself, she would see her parents soon.

No, instead, Ella was angry. She was angry at these people for taking her from her bedroom. She thought about how confused she had been, how the man that had taken her from her room had jumped right through her window with her in his arms, as if there had been nothing there.

One of the people holding her captive approached her. His figure told Ella that he was a man, and he was wearing all black with a black mask over his head, the kind that you typically see bank-robbers wear in movies.

"We are making progress, Ella," the man's distorted voice said. "It won't be long now."

She tried to shout at him, but the duct tape over her mouth prevented her from doing that.

"I _could_ allow you speak," the man said, "but you have to promise to behave. Would you behave, Ella?"

She nodded vigorously.

The man proceeded to carefully remove the duct tape from her mouth, and the other kids tried to cry out, wanting a chance to talk, too.

"My daddy is going to come here and kill you," Ella warned him.

"In time," the man replied, "I'm sure he will, but by then, it won't matter. We will have seen the outcome."

"What do you want?" Ella asked angrily. "Why do you keep giving me and the other kids shots?"

"Children are our future, Ella," the man said, "and you, well, you and these children are special."

Ella realized that, more than ever, she _needed_ to get out of here. If she could get out of here, her father could come save the rest of the kids before it was too late. She took a deep breath.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she calmly requested.

The man nodded and walked away. Within a couple of minutes, someone else approached. Ella was sure that this one was a woman, since she had a very feminine figure.

"Don't try anything," the woman said in a similarly distorted voice.

Ella nodded, and the woman bent over to untie Ella from the chair. Ella followed the woman to the bathroom, which was located near the end of a dark hallway off from the large room where she had been staying. On her way down the hallway, she eyed a fire extinguisher on the wall, not far from the bathroom door. She would wait for the right moment. She went into the bathroom and just stood there for a couple of minutes, thinking. She took another deep breath.

_I really hope this works_, she thought.

She exited the bathroom and immediately looked for the woman. The woman was at the other end of the hallway, waiting for her.

Ella didn't have time to think, but she was lucky that she had a cop as a father, a cop that had taught her fire safety rules. She grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and pulled the pin.

"No!" the woman's distorted voice cried.

Ella moved as quickly as she could with the heavy extinguisher as the woman ran after her, trying to stop her before she squeezed the lever, but she was too late. Ella squeezed the lever and held it for a few seconds. The woman, disoriented, tried to grab Ella, but she couldn't see her, and Ella dropped the fire extinguisher and ran. She ran past the woman, and when she got to the end of the hallway, she found the closest door that she could find and ran outside. She could faintly hear shouting behind her, calling for her to return, but it meant nothing to her, and she continued to run as quickly as she could, breathing in the night air as if it were the sweetest thing that she had ever tasted.


	12. Chapter 12

Broyles, Peter, Agent Lee, and Astrid all sat in the conference room, and Peter, for the first time, felt relieved, relieved that he didn't have to worry about what Broyles or Agent Lee was thinking, relieved that he was on this case because it was his job, not because Olivia had pulled some strings for him after Broyles had dismissed him, relieved that Ella, his daughter, was safe, and he could tell that Astrid was feeling the same way.

"This is what we have," Agent Lee began. "Ella was being drugged, but we don't know what with."

"How is that possible?" Broyles questioned.

"We don't know, "Agent Lee responded regretfully. "It's nothing that we've ever seen before, but our lab analysts are busy trying to identify it as we speak."

"We also know that _whatever_ it is," Peter added, "it's very similar to, if not the same as, something that was found in the Artist's bloodstream when _he_ was apprehended, and that _still_ hasn't been identified."

Broyles was taken aback. "What the hell does _that _mean?"

"I can't really tell you," Peter responded. "All I know is that he claims that he has been taking it since he was a kid, that it enhances his mental abilities. Needless to say, no one believed him, especially not Olivia."

Astrid spoke up. "We need to consider the possibility that whatever they did to Ella, whatever they're _doing_ to those other children, they've _been_ doing for a very long time."

Everyone fell silent for a few seconds.

"How is Ella feeling?" Broyles asked, breaking the silence.

"She's happy to be home," Peter said, nodding. "I know what you're thinking, and you should know that I'm hesitant to bring her _anywhere _at this point. She needs to rest, and she needs to be where she feels safe and comfortable. Right now, that's at home with Olivia."

Broyles began to speak, but Peter cut him off.

"With that being said," Peter continued, "there are other kids out there, kids that Ella knows, and she _wants_ to help. If anyone can, she can. My only request is that Astrid be allowed to go with her. The more people she knows that go with her, the easier this will be for her."

Broyles nodded. "She'll remain at a safe distance and brought back home once the place is located," he assured Peter. "Additionally, at least two field agents will remain with her."

"Thank you," Peter said, smiling and nodding his head in respect.

"My only hesitation," Broyles voiced, "is that they won't be there anymore," Broyles said, his eyes betraying worry. "These people are intelligent. With Ella gone, they'll be expecting people to come looking for the rest of the kids."

"I don't think so," Astrid disagreed, slowly shaking her head. "I think that they think they still have a hand in this."

"How so?" Agent Lee questioned.

"Ella says that they're capable of moving through solid matter as if it isn't even there," she explained. "I know that that sounds farfetched, but we've heard of some pretty amazing scientific developments being made around the world. I think these people are scientists, and I think that they consider themselves superhuman, god-like, even. It's likely that they're fearless."

"No," Peter disagreed, shaking his head, his attention wholly on Astrid, "no, if that were true, then why wear masks?"

"They must have planned to return the children after some sort of goal was met," Astrid suggested, "and I think that there's some sort of personal reason that they don't want us knowing who they are, but that doesn't mean that they're afraid. I still think that they believe that they're going to get away with this."

"If that's true," Broyles advised, "then they're likely going to be prepared for you, so you need to make sure that you're ready for _them_."

Everyone in the room, including Broyles, began to stand up, and Broyles eyed each one of them intently.

"One way or another," Broyles concluded, "_bring these bastards down_."

Peter left the room with what Astrid's words haunting him. He couldn't shake it, and he was actually afraid.

_Superhuman_.

_God-like_.

How could he expect to bring them down if that were true?


	13. Chapter 13

Peter's idea was to wait until dark, and Agent Lee agreed. They stood at the front of their SWAT team, slowly approaching the warehouse that Ella had helped them find. There were no windows on the bottom floor of the warehouse, and the very few that were on the top floor betrayed no light. Peter didn't worry yet, though, because he recalled Ella having said that she and the other kids were always kept downstairs and that at night, the lighting was dim.

"There are three different entrances into the building," Peter instructed, "so we're going to split up into three separate teams, each of us taking an entrance. Agent Lee, you should head one of those three teams."

Agent Lee nodded and proceeded to quickly divide the SWAT team up into three different groups. Peter led one team, Agent Lee led another, and a female agent named Vivian Mal Doran, an attractive woman whose long black hair was currently tied up in a bun behind her head, led the third. Slowly, they each approached an entrance and opened the doors, which, much to my Peter's surprise, were unlocked.

Peter immediately saw the kids standing in a circle with their arms outstretched at their sides, the tips of their fingers touching. He also noted a young Asian woman with long black curls standing at the center of the circle. She was wearing a white lace top with a black leather jacket and black jeans. All of their eyes were closed, but they immediately opened them when they heard the sounds of the teams entering the room. The woman smiled.

"We were expecting you, Agent Bishop," she said coldly, "but it doesn't matter now. It's over."

"Yes, it is," Peter countered. "Now, step away from the kids and lie down on the floor, face down, or else we will shoot you."

"You wouldn't risk hitting any of the children, would you?" she said. She reminded Peter of a cat.

"No, we wouldn't," Peter admitted. "That's why there's a sniper outside, and believe me when I say that he has a clear shot. If you make one wrong move, he will not hesitate to shoot."

"If there is anything I was ever good at," the woman mocked, "it was a good Poker game, and believe me when _I_ say that I know a bluff when I see it."

"I am _not_ bluffing," Peter affirmed, but his muscles were tense. He _was _bluffing.

"He's not," Agent Mal Doran spoke up. "Step away from the children _now_."

_Thank God for her_, Peter thought.

"It doesn't matter now," the woman said, slowly shaking her head, and as she spoke, a bright white light began to surround the circle. "Even as I speak, it matters less and less."

"I'm going to need all of you to get away from her!" Peter shouted at the kids. "Get away from her _now_!"

They obeyed, scattering in different directions, and the white light narrowed itself to the woman's position. Peter didn't hesitate. He fired.

The woman didn't seem to have been injured. She merely cracked a wicked smile, and within a matter of seconds, the white light vanished, and she was gone.

"What the hell?" Agent Lee said, shocked. "What was that?"

Agent Lee approached the center of the room, where the woman had just vanished.

"Stay back," Peter cautioned. "Don't forget, there may be at least two more of them here. We're not finished here."

Agent Lee nodded and did as he was instructed, stepping back.

"Right you are," an English male voice said, reminding Peter eerily of Hannibal Lecter. "You are a most competent agent, Agent Bishop."

The man descended to the bottom of the stairs, and the SWAT team members followed his path with their weapons. He was probably in his fifties, sixty at the oldest and was of average build with short reddish-brown hair, his bangs hanging about halfway down his forehead.

"Who was that woman?" Peter questioned him.

"Where did that woman go?" Peter demanded.

"Dr. Elizabeth Sarnoff, yes," he replied with a tone that suggested that he was genuinely saddened. "It is indeed a tragedy but a necessary sacrifice, all the same. Now, we know that it works, and that's all that we wanted."

"What do you mean?" Peter pressed him.

"Well, she already knew that it wouldn't be a round trip," the man replied. "She isn't coming back. Agent Bishop, you may consider yourself a good agent, and I would agree with you. You most certainly are, but that doesn't mean that you have the knowledge and the understanding that a man like me has. There is _much_ that you don't know."

"A man like you?" Peter pressed. "What the hell does that mean? Who are you?"

The man smirked. "How rude of me to speak without introducing myself. My name is Dr. David Robert Jones, and my specialty is in quantum physics."

Peter grinned in a scoffing manner. The guy didn't look like any kind of scientist. In his dark blue dress shirt and black dress pants, he looked more like a businessman.

"You see," Dr. Jones continued, "our world is not the only world, Agent Bishop. It is merely one of many, and we just proved it."

Suddenly, Peter understood, but he couldn't believe it. "Dr. Sarnoff," he said, hesitant to believe that he was actually saying this, "just traveled to a _parallel universe_?"

"With the combined mental energy of these wonderful children, yes," Dr. Jones said, his head gesturing toward an area where some of the kids had clustered together.

Peter fully understood, recalling what he had told Broyles about the drug that had been found in the Artist's bloodstream.

_All I know is that he claims that he has been taking it since he was a kid, that it enhances his mental abilities._

"There were side effects, weren't there?" he asked Dr. Jones. "Fits of rage, psychotic breaks? You created killers, monsters."

"Sadly, yes," Dr. Jones admitted with a frown, "a most unfortunate problem that has since been solved."

"We're giving you the same choice we gave Dr. Sarnoff," Peter said, wanting nothing more than to arrest this bastard and get these kids home to their families as soon as possible. "Come with us, or we will open fire on you."

"Yes, well, I'm going to tell _you_ the same as Dr. Sarnoff told you," Dr. Jones said, quietly laughing to himself. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Peter eyed Agent Lee and Agent Mal Doran, jerking his head toward Dr. Jones to suggest that they arrest him.

They approached him, and Peter remained where he was with his weapon fixed on Dr. Jones.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dr. Jones said, slowly shaking his head in unison with his right index finger.

The two of them attempted to handcuff him, but as soon as they touched him, they shot back as if they had suffered a severe electrical shock, which was exactly what it sounded like. They landed on the floor about ten feet away from where they had been at the bottom of the stairs.

The SWAT team members opened fire on him as he walked toward the door, the same door through which Ella had escaped. Before exiting the building, he turned around, grinned at all of them, and used his hands to brush off all of the remaining bullets. The sound of the lead hitting the concrete floor seemed to resonate for a few seconds as Peter's eyed widened in fear, but before he or anyone else could decide what to do, Dr. David Robert Jones was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Peter instructed a few of the SWAT team members to transport the kids to the agency so that they could undergo some brief testing before being returned to their families. He thought about how he would rather that that not have to be the case, about how he would rather they be safe in their beds as soon as they were transported out of here, but they had to be tested. Otherwise, there was no way of knowing if they were in need of hospitalization. It was more than likely that that same unidentified drug would be found in their bloodstreams.

"Ella said that there were three," Peter said to Agent Lee and Agent Mal Doran after the kids had all vacated the warehouse.

Agent Lee nodded. "So, you're thinking that there's someone else upstairs?"

"At least one," Peter said, returning the nod. "I'm going to go check it out. You two stay here."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Agent Mal Doran said, her brown eyes briefly blinking in disagreement. "If there _is_ someone else up there, you shouldn't be going up there alone."

"I'll be fine," Peter insisted.

The two agents nodded, but they didn't do much to prevent betraying their disagreement. They shared discouraged expressions with each other, and Peter knew that they would have a word or two to say to each other about him when he was around and that they would probably be sharing their thoughts in their reports, as well, but none of that bothered him. He _had_ to do this. Broyles had doubted him, and he had to prove himself.

He ascended the stairs slowly, and when he reached the top, he looked around him. There wasn't much to see. It was very dark, but he could see very dim lighting coming from a room near the end of the hallway. He transfixed his flashlight directly underneath his weapon, both held out directly in front of him, and followed the light. When he got to the end of the hallway and opened the door, he saw a small office with a desk and a couple of expensively upholstered seats. There were no windows in the room, and the desk, with a very small desk lamp sitting on Peter's right of it, faced the wall opposite to Peter. A man sat at the desk with his back turned to Peter, but Peter didn't need to see his face. He knew exactly who it was.

"_You_," Peter said, quickly pocketing his flashlight but keeping his weapon aimed at his father, "_you did this_?"

"I never wanted to, Peter," Walter replied with regret and sadness in his voice, his back still facing Peter. "All I ever wanted was a relationship with you the way that a father and a son should have a relationship."

"You are no father of mine," Peter said through gritted teeth. "Stand up slowly and put your hands on top of your head. Do _not_ turn around."

"Peter," Walter begged, his voice shaking, "please forgive me. I never wanted to hurt anyone, certainly never my dear granddaughter."

"I will not ask again," Peter replied, ignoring him.

Walter did as he was instructed. "You should know that I don't plan to fight you in any way," Walter reassured him, "nor do I plan to lengthen a trial any more than is necessary by pleading not guilty. Right here and now, I admit to what I did, but I believe that what I did was best for all of us, including those children. They are our future, son."

Peter approached him and cuffed him and then exited the room with Walter leading the way.

"My job isn't to decide what happens to you," Peter said sharply. "Trust me, you wouldn't want it to be."

Walter was shoved over to an unidentified SWAT team member, and Peter watched as he was placed in the backseat of one of their vehicles. Walter looked one last time over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with Peter for understanding and forgiveness, neither of which Peter planned to ever grant him. He didn't plan to ever again take a single look at the man that he had once known as his father.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a sunny Friday afternoon, and Olivia was in a good mood. She loved the summer, and she, Peter and Ella were planning to go to the movies that night and then go to Joey's Pizza. She had a smile on her face as she drove along the Massachusetts interstate, and the wind rapidly made its way though her open window, blowing her long reddish-brown hair around, as she sang along to "See You When You're 40," one of her favorite songs by Dido.

When she arrived at the prison at which she was told Walter was being held, she simply showed the warden her identification and was allowed in for no more than five minutes. She walked the dark corridor to which she had been directed by a guard until she reached its end. She stopped in front of the iron bars and smiled.

Walter, in a hideous gray jumpsuit, stood up from the bench on which he had been sitting and approached the bars.

"Olivia," he said with excitement, "I wasn't expecting you. What a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, this is no friendly visit," she said, her sarcastic smile creating a very cold atmosphere between the two of them, of which she could tell Walter was now aware.

"What I did is unforgivable," Walter said, tearing up, "but all I long for is Peter's understanding. What Dr. Jones said to him was the _truth_, Olivia. There _are_ other universes in existence, and we need to do everything we can to be aware of them, to understand them. Children will help us do that."

"No one is going to help you do anything for a very long time," Olivia remarked coldly. "You took my daughter away from me, and I'm going to make sure that you stay here as long as possible."

Walter smiled a sheepish smile and proceeded to walk through the iron bars as if they didn't exist. Olivia's smile vanished as she quickly took a step backward and gasped. It was exactly how Ella had said she had gone through her bedroom window with a man, now presumed to be Dr. Jones.

"This is what children can do for us," Walter said, and Olivia knew that he was trying to obtain her understanding so that he could hope to, one day, obtain the same from Peter. "Incredible strength like nothing you have ever seen, Olivia. Invisibility. Resistance to bullets. The ability to move through solid matter, to glimpse into parallel worlds, even to travel to them. Don't you see, Olivia? Superheroes are no longer fantasy, and they can help make this world a better place."

Olivia couldn't find it in her to do anything but stand in front of him and stare at him in disbelief, but he did something that surprised her. He returned to his cell, once again walking through the iron bars as if they weren't even there.

"The drug that you found in the Artist's bloodstream and then in the children's bloodstream," Walter went on, stuttering as he returned to his bench, "was an experimental drug that went without a name for quite some time until Dr. Jones decided to call it Cortexiphan, as it drastically advances the human mental capacity to not only store information but to manipulate energy and effectively influence the body to take on abilities considered impossible, when in fact, they are far from it. Just imagine, Olivia. Imagine Ella being able to manipulate electricity or even control the weather. Imagine the impossibilities."

"So, these children," Olivia questioned him in disbelief, "helped you become Shadowcat?"

"Yes," Walter replied, answering her question, "the drug will only have a direct influence on young minds, the minds of children, that is, but combined with the power of young minds working together, anyone can access the parts of the brain that the drug affects. As you have just witnessed, these walls are no physical obstacle for me. I could leave here if I desired to do so, but I don't wish to do so."

"Why not?" Olivia asked him, utterly confused.

"That wouldn't do much to earn my son's trust back, would it?" Walter asked, and for a minute, Olivia questioned whether or not he actually wanted her to answer, as he stayed silent for a few seconds.

Finally, she did answer him. "I can tell you without a doubt that you will _never_ earn his trust back," she said, stepping closer to the cell. "He never _did_ trust you. He always suspected that you had something to do with why his mother ended her own life, and now, he _knows_ that to be true."

Walter's head sank. "It _is_ true," he said in a whisper. "Elizabeth discovered what I had been doing, and she broke under the pressure of being asked to keep it a secret. I killed her."

"Yes, you did," Olivia agreed, nodding her head, "and Peter will never forgive you for that, and just so we're clear, you're lucky that Ella and those other children weren't hurt in any way, or else nothing would have stopped him from putting a bullet in your head."

"I would not have objected to such punishment," Walter said slowly. "A father that doesn't have the love and understanding of his son has no reason to be alive."

"No, I suppose you don't," Olivia agreed with him, "and eventually, we'll figure out how to counteract the effects of the drug, and you'll be the first to receive the treatment. You're nothing but a pathetic old man that abused children so that he could play God, and I _will _prove it to you."

Olivia turned around and walked away.

"Olivia," Walter pleaded loudly, "tell Peter I love him, please. Tell him that he means more to me than anything in the world. Tell him to be a better man than his father."

Olivia turned around and read his desperate expression. She called back, "He already is." Then, she returned to her car and went home to her family.


End file.
